Ken Raptor's Arc

Chapter 2 of 6

Ken stood at the counter inside the clinic, sorting through a stack of veterinary supply catalogs. He needed to order basics—syringes, gauze, antibiotic ointment. The grant committees wanted administrative experience, so he'd give them something concrete to review. He opened a spiral-bound ledger and began logging every supply purchase from the past six months. Each entry got a date, item description, cost, and purpose. His handwriting stayed tight and precise across the columns. After an hour, he had twelve pages of documented inventory management. It wasn't fancy, but it proved he could track resources and plan ahead. He closed the ledger and set it aside for the next application. The next morning, Ken drove to a cabin he'd heard about from a retired ornithologist. The stone foundation sat solid under wide windows that looked out over the forest. Inside, bird encyclopedias filled every shelf. Research stations lined the walls with anatomy charts and medical journals. He pulled down a volume on wing fractures and flipped through diagrams of bone structure. Martinez had bled out because Ken didn't know enough fast enough. These books held answers he needed—proper splinting techniques, infection protocols, surgical approaches for different species. He spent six hours reading, taking notes in his fourth notebook. When he left, he had contact information for three wildlife veterinarians and a list of advanced procedures to master. Back at the clinic, Ken assembled a wooden examination table outside the entrance. The polished top sat on sturdy metal legs. He stretched a canvas pup tent over it to keep off rain and sun. Birds arriving in crisis needed assessment before he brought them into the sterile treatment area inside. This outdoor station would let him triage quickly—check breathing, look for blood, feel for breaks. He tested the table height with his hands. Perfect for standing work. He placed a plastic bin underneath for emergency supplies. He walked to the back of the property and found a natural depression in the ground. Ken hauled flat stones from the tree line and built them into a wide basin. He fitted a recirculating pump and ran a hose from the clinic's water line. Water trickled down moss-covered rocks into lower pools. The fountain would give recovering birds a clean drinking source when they moved to outdoor recovery cages. He watched the water flow for a minute, then checked his watch. 1350 hours. Treatment rounds in ten minutes. He headed back inside, his hands already reaching for the disinfectant.